


Trip and Stumble

by doctorcakeray



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Intoxication, M/M, Recruitment Trip, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorcakeray/pseuds/doctorcakeray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was honestly surprised that Erik decided to stay.  Taking a look at his mind didn’t mean he knew the man, and he’d carefully kept his thoughts to himself after their talk the night before, wondering as he went to bed what the next morning would bring.</p>
<p>Apparently it’s travelling across the country with an angry, dangerous, German metal-bender.  Life is fascinating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trip and Stumble

1

It’s a bit of an accident that Charles goes to find mutants with Erik.  Well, it’s not an accident at all, it’s Erik’s decision, and Charles goes along with it.

He was honestly surprised that Erik decided to stay.  Taking a look at his mind didn’t mean he knew the man, and he’d carefully kept his thoughts to himself after their talk the night before, wondering as he went to bed what the next morning would bring.

Apparently it’s travelling across the country with an angry, dangerous, German metal-bender.  Life is fascinating.

Raven is furious when she learns about this, demands to come with him.  It would be the first time they’ve gone more than a day or two without seeing each other since, well, since they met.  But there are other things at stake here.

“Raven,” he says, wearing one of the faces that he knows makes her call him _old fart_.  “I need someone I can trust to be here, to greet the mutants we send back.”

Ravens pauses at that, then rolls her eyes to cover her smile.

They spend a lot of time on planes, in cars, walking the streets.  The location Charles picks up on Cerebro isn’t necessarily particularly near where they find the next mutant, so Charles spends a lot of time stretching his powers, finding exactly how many minds he can reach.  It’s exhilarating, it’s exhausting, and he gets a fair number of headaches.  Erik glares at him when he pushes too hard, the same glare from the first few times he came out of Cerebro, tired as Raven ducked her head under his arm and leaned him against her.

He still can’t tell if the glare is simple concern or anger that Charles doesn’t know his own limits, but Erik told Charles to stay out of his head, and he’s been doing his level best to follow that.

When they aren’t travelling, they are talking to people, in bars and shops, on street corners, at gas stations.  Charles is used to talking, he got a PhD, after all, and he had to be able to explain himself fifteen different ways.

They’re in a bar, now.  Erik isn’t used to small talk, he’s used to intimidating, and Charles knows how his last visit to a drinking establishment went.

It’s early enough that the radio is tuned to a football match, which Charles is listening to with a man who turns out to be Cambridge graduate, but Charles can put up with that for company that can follow the game, and they make a few well-natured digs at one another’s almae matres.

Charles is aware of Erik switching between sitting down next to him and prowling the bar, alternately checking the exits and staring at Charles.  Charles would call him paranoid, except it’s justified in a man with his experience.  At the very least, Charles thinks it might be a good sign that he’s apparently being included in Erik’s constant escape plans.

Erik relaxes somewhat, later, or that might just his own state of inebriation that Charles feels.  They’ve both had a couple of drinks, but Charles is obviously the more intoxicated of the two, his shoulder leaning on Erik’s as he tilts off the barstool.

Erik grips his arm as he guides them through the hotel lobby towards the elevator.  Charles thinks he’s really not that tipsy, but he allows it.

They’re the only ones in the lift, and Charles notices how Erik casts his eyes at the ceiling when the doors slide shut.

“You’re making escape plans, right?” Charles asks.  “That’s why you’re always looking around.”

“It’s good to be aware of your surroundings,” Erik answers gruffly.

“Thanks,” Charles says.  “I can be bad at that.”  And maybe he is a bit drunk, because as the lift stops his face falls against Erik’s shoulder, and it takes a moment for him to stand up straight again.

2

He goes to take a shower first, hoping to sober up.  It fails, obviously, when he walks out of the bathroom, clad in nothing but a towel, stands stock still for an instant, and then looks over at Erik in surprise and blurts out, “Oh, I didn’t know.”

Erik was sitting in one of the beds, a magazine open over his lap, but he hadn’t been reading it.  His eyes narrow at Charles.

“I hadn’t been looking, I just, accidentally,” Charles stammers.  “I shouldn’t ever drink, honestly, ruins my control,” he finishes lamely.

“Is it going to be a problem?” Erik says evenly.

It takes Charles a moment to catch what Erik means, and then he’s talking too fast again.  “Of course not.  It’s…much more common than you might think.”  He taps a couple fingers to his temple.  “I would know.  And for someone like me…” He stops, because he hasn’t ever actually mentioned this to anyone.  “It’s, it’s a lot more about the feel of someone’s mind, anyway.”

“Really?” Erik looks considerate, thoughtful.

Charles takes a step back.  “I should really be fully clothed for this kind of conversation.”  He hastily retraces his steps and closes the bathroom door.

Once he’s alone again, Charles considers his reflection in the still-fogged bathroom mirror.  It’s the same image that was in Erik’s mind, but certain things were highlighted.  The angle of his jaw, the line of his throat, the freckles across his… _well, I suppose my shoulders are a bit broad,_ he thinks to himself.  The eyes, too, had stood out, but Charles got that frequently.

When he walks back out, Erik has a chessboard set up on one of the beds.  Charles isn’t sure what to say, so he waits for Erik to look up.

“Fancy a game?” Erik says as he meets his eyes.

“Sure,” Charles agrees slowly, and goes to sit across from him.

The next day they’re at an airport, and then they’re running around the city, and Charles passes out, exhausted, as soon as they get to the hotel.  The night after that, in a bar again, Erik orders their first round of drinks, so Charles suspects they’ve reached some sort of alright.

He’s also trying very hard to follow a piece of advice that Raven gave him once, well, several times, that he’s a better flirt when he doesn’t try.  The injuries a little sister can do to one’s pride.

They’re busy, constantly looking, but travelling and nights at hotels leaves plenty of room for talking.  Charles tells Erik how he met Raven, skips over the other parts of his childhood, recounts stories from Oxford.  He listens to Erik tell what he will.  Charles knows the what, but that doesn’t mean he knows the person, and he pays close attention to the stories Erik gives.

It’s not the only thing he pays attention to, Charles knows, as he watches the way the fabric of Erik’s turtleneck stretches over his back.  He wonders when he noticed the fact that Erik slicks his hair back, and how by the evening a few strands always fall loose in his eyes.

They talk about the future, too, and not only their own lives.  Erik’s politics worry Charles, to say the least, and Charles hopes he’s wrong, he has to be wrong, but Charles knows his history, knows people, and he is everything but naive.

No, faith is different from naivety, and there’s so much good in them, in everyone they come to meet, and every time they find a new and incredible ability, when Charles looks to meet Erik’s eyes, he knows their expressions of wonder match.

It’s another hotel, another chess game, when Charles leans over the board, slowly, and cups Erik’s cheek to softly press their lips together.  Charles sits back after a few seconds.

Erik is watching his face, gaze on his lips and then flicking up to his eyes, when he asks, “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” Charles says, and he doesn’t have to think about it.

Erik moves a piece on the board and asks, “Finish the game?”

“I think so.”  Charles smiles and contemplates his next move.

3

The chess pieces are packed away, and Charles stands to stretch his legs while Erik slips the set into their luggage.  Once he works the stiffness out of his legs, he forgets what exactly he was planning to do next.  As he glances around the room, he catches his reflection in a mirror hanging over the desk.  It’s his same face, just as before, but as he watches Erik slowly walks up behind him.  Erik stops with his chest barely touching Charles’s back, wraps a hand low over his waist, fingers hooking over belt loops, and presses them close.

Charles regards them in the mirror, places his hand over Erik’s.  Erik catches his free hand to thread their fingers together and brings it up to press against his collarbone.  Charles can see the way their arms curl together over his chest.  They make a handsome looking couple, he thinks.  He wonders if Erik thinks the same thing, but it’s too early to say it out loud.

Erik leans in to press a close-mouthed kiss low on Charles’s neck, right over his collar.  Charles sees Erik check his expression in the mirror before he places his next kiss, barely a hair’s breadth higher.  It feels nice, and Charles relaxes into it, closing his eyes and letting his head fall to the side.  As Erik works his way up to his jawline, Charles wonders if he is still watching him in the mirror, and what he sees there.

When Charles feels the hand on his belt move down, he makes a low noise of surprise, though not at all of disapproval.  Erik stills.  Charles turns his head to where he knows Erik’s face is and opens his eyes.  He’d adjusted to the red-black of his eyelids, and he has to blink for some time before he accustoms to the hotel lights and the closeness of Erik’s face.  His eyes meet Erik’s for a long moment, close enough to see the green and gray and blue streaks in his irises, and then his gaze flicks to Erik’s mouth and he stretches upwards.  Erik meets him halfway, parts his lips as Charles sighs into his mouth.  He draws Charles’s lower lip into his mouth, nipping and sucking, and Charles groans his approval.  Once Erik releases it, Charles angles his head and pushes their lips back together, licking his way into Erik’s mouth.  By the time they break apart, their lips are slick with saliva and they’re both breathing hard.  Charles can feel Erik’s arm rising and falling with his chest.  Charles keeps his gaze on Erik, watches him search his face.

Charles lifts a hand to the side of Erik’s face, palm resting on his cheekbone.  Their eyes meet and Charles asks, “May I look?”

He feels Erik go stiff and he adds, gently, firmly, “You’re welcome to say ‘no.’” His next words come out as whisper.  “I’ve just never been able to ask, but it’s alright.”

Erik tilts his head into Charles’s palm and shuts his eyes.  For a minute, he’s quiet except for his breathing, and then he says, “Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Charles says and dips in.

The next thing Charles is aware of his Erik setting him down on the edge of the bed, grinning at him as he opens his eyes.  Charles catches himself on a moan before he remembers to breathe.  He briefly wonders if he should be embarrassed, but can’t be bothered.

“Good, then?” Erik asks, gently smoothing hair away from Charles’s temple.

“Very heady,” Charles replies and smiles.

Erik chortles as he presses a kiss to where his fingers were only moments ago.

“Would you like to see?” Charles asks.  “From me?”

He feels Erik nod, hears him whisper “yes” by his ear.  It’s easy, communicating with minds, and Charles sends him words and images and sensations.

Erik sinks to the ground, mouth forming a small “o” as he rests his head on Charles’s knee.

“Sorry,” Charles says.  “That must be surprising, if you aren’t used to it.”

“Is that really how you—” Erik starts, and then they both become aware of their position, of how Erik is kneeling between Charles’s legs, of his hand laying high on Charles’s thigh.

4

Charles tries not to move, not to say anything.  He knows he’s visibly hard, he has been since he looked in Erik’s mind.  He shudders as Erik’s thumb traces down the crease of his pelvis.  Erik leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss against Charles’s fly, and Charles can feel the heat of his breath through the fabric.  When Erik tilts his head forward, the bridge of his nose rubs against Charles’s length, and Charles chokes down a groan.  Erik grins up at him as he grabs for Charles’s buckle.  Charles cants up his hips as Erik eases down his slacks and briefs.  Once they’re around his ankles Charles makes a pull for Erik’s turtleneck, lifting it off as Erik raises his arms over his head.

Well, they’ve got one set of clothes off between them, Charles thinks, and then gets distracted as Erik scoots closer, one hand moving behind his balls to press at the sensitive flesh there.  Erik just looks at his cock for a moment, and really, Charles thinks all the intense staring is getting to be a bit much, but he finds that he doesn’t mind at all as Erik slowly lowers his mouth over Charles’s erection.

For the next few minutes, all he can really think is, _that tongue is extraordinary._   He realizes he must have said that out loud at some point, or projected, when he feels Erik’s chuckle over skin.

He absolutely doesn’t whine when Erik takes his mouth off, even if the amused expression Erik gives him says differently.  He hums approval though, when Erik goes to shuck off his pants.

“I want the rest of your clothes off, too,” Erik nearly growls, and Charles starts unbuttoning his shirt.  He balls it up and throws it at Erik, tossing along his best cheeky grin as well.

“Lay down,” Erik says.

Charles flops backwards onto the bed, and it’s comfortable, so he rolls onto his stomach and stretches out, and the brush of the ruffled sheets certainly feels good…somewhere.  Erik hasn’t moved, yet, so he rolls onto his back again, fixes him with bright blue eyes.

“Enjoying the view?”

Erik is on him in a flash, thighs clamping down on either side of him, one arm braced by his face while the other threads through his hair, gripping close to his scalp.  He’s surprised by how good it feels when Erik tugs his head back, and the pleasant sting of a bite at his neck is an even better surprise.

He knows he’s going to have at least one mark tomorrow, when he finally shifts his head in Erik’s grasp.  “Just a moment.”  He reaches a hand down and moves his hips until he feels the drag of them grinding against each other.  Erik grunts, and Charles lifts his hand back up to spit into it, once, twice, and then his hand travels back down to grip both of their cocks and start stroking, slow and steady.

Erik grips his hair tightly again as he smashes their mouths together.  Charles’s free hand is low on Erik’s back, short nails scratching lightly against the skin there.  It isn’t long before the kiss gets messy and frantic, panting against each other’s mouths.  Charles orgasms first, throwing his head back as he does.  He keeps stroking through it, but his grip goes weak until he’s done spilling between their stomachs.  He shifts his hand to make a tight circle around Erik’s cock, moving in quick, firm pulls.

As Erik meets Charles’s gaze, Charles smirks widely with lazy confidence and tells him, “Come on.”

That does it, and Erik comes with a cry.  Charles keeps stroking, not stopping until Erik brushes his hand away and collapses, face falling into the pillow next to Charles.

“We’re rather fantastic,” Charles informs the ceiling, satisfied.  He hears Erik’s muffled laughter, before Erik turns his head away from the bed sheets to press a kiss to Charles’s cheek.


End file.
